


This Isn't Everything You Are

by alwaysastorm



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Formula One, M/M, Male Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysastorm/pseuds/alwaysastorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written prior to the 2012 season for Motorskink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Isn't Everything You Are

**_Maranello, 3rd February 2012_ **

_Fernando could scarcely keep the smile off his face._

_"Ugly nose or not – you know this car's going to be a winner, right?"_

_Felipe shrugged, still pissed off at Luca di Montezemolo's speech at the car launch. How many more times was he going to be reminded that the 2012 season was going to be an important one for him? He fucking knew that._

_"Do I?"_

_"Well yes, Felipe. We've seen the wind tunnel data; we know what the engineers have done. We can win in this car."_

_"You mean, you can win in this car."_

_Fernando turned to Felipe._

_"What do you mean?"_

_Felipe snapped; two years of bubbling resentment suddenly boiling over outside the famous house of Enzo Ferrari at Maranello. Through gritted teeth so no-one would overhear, he spat out the words._

_"You know what I mean. You think they will let me win? You think if there's the slightest chance that YOU can win instead, that they'll let me go for the victory? No, for sure that will not happen. They would not let it happen and neither would you."_

_Fernando leant back against the white wall. For a moment, he was silent. He took his cap off, running a hand through his hair and biting down on his lip as he was lost in thought._

_"You know... if we get to the first race and we're competitive; if we're 1-2 on the grid and leading the pack, then it could be arranged that I let you go for it."_

_Felipe raised an eyebrow; forehead unwrinkled, a remnant of the plastic surgery he'd had after his accident._

_"Oh really? Why would you do that?"_

_Fernando fidgeted with his baseball cap as he looked down at the ground._

_"I can catch up easily in the championship. But you have to do one thing for me in exchange..."_

 

**Melbourne, Wednesday 14th March 2012**

Rob was relieved to find the hotel corridor was empty as he rapped the door to Fernando's room. Through habit, he patted his jeans pocket to check his cigarettes were there. Fuck, he'd left them in his jacket, which was lying on the sofa in the hotel lobby. Once he'd gotten Fernando's text, he'd jumped up as if he'd been scalded and made his way rapidly to the fourth floor hotel room where he had to...

The door opened.

"Come on in."

Rob followed Fernando in. The curtains were already closed; the room dim. His mouth was bone-dry as he spoke, in contrast to his palms, which were sweating.

"Let's just get this over with, okay?" he muttered.

Fernando bent down to open the mini-bar.

"Would you like a drink?"

"N... whiskey," Rob blurted, taking the small bottle from Fernando and knocking it back in 2 large gulps. The burn helped. Slightly. "Any more?"

The words were barely out of his mouth when Fernando dived towards him, snaking his hand down Rob's jeans and pressing his lips against his; his tongue asking for entry.

Rob placed a hand firmly on Fernando's chest, pushing him away.

"Don't fucking kiss me. This isn't about that, okay? We do what we have to do and then I get out of here."

Fernando nodded breathlessly.

"If that's the way you want it."

"Yes. It is."

Rob closed his eyes as the Spaniard's hand continued its path down underneath his boxers. Fernando's other hand unzipped him, edging his trousers down past his hips. 

"I don't need to kiss your mouth," Fernando said huskily, and Rob swallowed hard as he felt both hands yank down his underwear; heard Fernando drop to his knees; and felt a hot, soft tongue lick long strokes along the length of his dick. He inwardly cursed as his body betrayed him and allowed his cock to harden. He arched his back, his arms firmly by his side so he didn't forget himself in the moment and entwine his hands in Fernando's silky hair. As he listened to the gentle smacking noise of Fernando's mouth on his cock, Rob felt a tightening in his belly that he knew would spread downward to his balls if Fernando kept going. Was this all Fernando wanted? Just to blow him?

He got his answer as Fernando stood up, pulling off his black t-shirt and kicking off his jeans. He had no underwear on, and his dick was rigid. Rob looked down at his own, hard and slick with Fernando's saliva.

"What now?"

"Now," Fernando began as he sat down onto the bed and gestured for Rob to do the same. "Now you fuck me." He lay back, reaching out a hand, wanting to pull Rob down on top of him.

Rob exhaled as he sat on the bed. Fernando ran a hand down his chest, and Rob felt himself emit a small moan as the hand touched his cock lightly.

"Fuck me," Fernando breathed, widening his legs and arching upwards. He reached back, fumbling to get the drawer of the bedside table open.

"In there."

Rob nodded, and quickly found the small tube and box. 

Fernando gazed up at him, his mouth open; already breathing heavily, His eyes looked sleepy, lustful. Rob had to do this while he was still hard, but he couldn't... he couldn't do this the way he and Felipe did; with Fernando on his back so they could look into one another's eyes. He loved looking into the honeyed brown of Felipe's when they made love, adored the fire in the Brazilian's eyes as their bodies exploded together. 

Rob motioned with his hand. His voice cracked as he mumbled the words.

"Turn over."

Fernando complied quickly, kneeling on the bed, and gripping onto the headboard, his knuckles white. Rob stared at his soft, tanned skin, thinking of how Fernando was more heavily muscled than Felipe; yet hairless, almost softer-looking. His physique was stunning, but he wasn't Felipe. 

"Rob," Fernando moaned, arching his back, almost pleading with his body. The sight of his lithe, toned back and thighs made Rob's dick return to its previous tumescence, and he put on the condom quickly before easing his cock between the Spaniard's ass cheeks, his head pounding as his erection began to ache. 

Rob swore as he sank inside Fernando, feeling the younger man tighten around his shaft. He began to thrust; gently at first and then faster as he felt and saw Fernando push backwards to meet him.

"There, Rob, keep fucking me... don't stop... oh..."

A brief thought popped into Rob's head as Fernando started babbling first in English, then in Spanish, _"oh Jesus does he ever shut his mouth"_. The thoughts were quickly forgotten as Rob felt beads of sweat form on his forehead and in the small of his back. Christ, this felt good. He found himself reaching out, his hand grabbing onto Fernando's hair as he began to pound harder. Fernando was crying out, his hand wrapped firmly around his own cock, pumping vigorously. Rob felt his knees almost give way as the heat in the pit of his stomach travelled down to his balls before shooting down the length of his cock and erupting in several short, hot spurts inside Fernando.

He sat back, sweat dripping down his face. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to get his breath back. He was spent. He watched as Fernando brought himself to a messy climax, collapsing face-first down onto the bed with a grunt.

Rob shakily stood up. He padded into the bathroom, where he splashed his face with cold water. He couldn't wait to get into a proper hot shower, and he'd never craved a cigarette so much. Walking back into the room, he saw Fernando still lying on the bed, flaccid cock lying against his thigh. 

Fernando sat up when he saw Rob gathering his clothes from off the floor and pulling his jeans back on.

"We are finished?" Fernando asked.

Rob nodded curtly. "I believe I've done my part of the deal, yeah?"

Fernando paused, before tilting his head to one side.

"Yes."

"Good. Then let's just forget this happened. I've done my bit. Now it's up to you to do your bit during the race."

Rob bent down to tie his shoes before striding out of the room and slamming the door behind him. His hands were fidgety and his mood irritable at the insatiable need for a cigarette. For the second time that day, he cursed himself for leaving his packet in the hotel lobby. Too impatient to wait for the lift, he bounded down several flights of stairs.

He walked into the lobby, and stopped in his tracks as he saw a familiar face sitting in the same seat he had earlier, a pack of Marlboro Lights in one hand, and a lighter in the other.

"They're mine," Rob said.

"I know. I recognised your jacket."

Felipe stayed sitting, twisting the lighter over and over between his fingers.

"I almost had one," he began, not making eye contact. "You smoke when you're stressed, right? So I guess I thought they'd help me... help me not think about you and..."

Rob felt the back of his eyes sting. 

"Please don't finish the end of that sentence."

Felipe took a cigarette from the packet and handed it to Rob along with the lighter. They felt reassuring in his hand. Felipe stared down at the floor, kicking at a frayed bit of carpet absentmindedly.

"You coming outside with me while I smoke this?"

Felipe nodded. Rob looked around, and seeing no-one was near, brushed a hand gently down the Brazilian's cheek. Felipe grabbed it before he could pull it away, resting his head against it, eyes closed.

"This isn't going to change everything, is it, Rob?"

Rob smiled. It was either that or let the tears that were stinging the back of his eyes to be released. And he was damned if he'd let Felipe see that. They'd both agreed that he would do what Fernando had asked, that neither one of them would resent the other for the fact that it had happened. He knew how much Felipe needed a good season, knew that while Felipe would never have said he wanted Rob to do it, that this was something Rob could do to help. 

"Not a thing, kid. Not a thing."

 

**_Melbourne, Sunday 18th March 2012_ **

_Rob stared blankly at the screen in front of him on the pitwall as Felipe and Fernando crossed the finish line. The Spaniard had done it flawlessly, making it look like a genuine error that had allowed his teammate to overtake on the final lap. Even up until now, Rob hadn't truly believed it would happen. Especially under such circumstances._

_He pulled off his headphones and rubbed his eyes wearily. How had they gotten the F2012 so wrong?_

_Looking back up at the screen, Rob saw Felipe's name beside the 7th place classification._

_He stood up, grabbed his clipboard, and walked solemnly back to the garage._


End file.
